Page 139 of One Fifth Avenue

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“It’s the right thing to do, my dear,” Enid said, nodding approvingly. “And you still go to see him every day. It’s so admirable.”

“It’s only thirty minutes by helicopter,” Annalisa said, moving into the cool of the apartment. “But tell me all about Sandy.”

“Well,” Enid said, taking a large breath equal to the importance of her news. “He’s been sentenced to five years.”

“That’s terrible.”

“The prosecutor wanted to make an example of him. He’ll serve less time, I’m sure. Maybe two and a half years. Then he’ll get out, and everyone will forget about it. They always do. What I don’t understand is how Sandy Brewer got the cross in the first place.”

“Don’t you know?” Annalisa asked.

“No, my dear. I don’t.”

“Come with me,” Annalisa said. “I have something to show you.”

She led Enid upstairs to the master bedroom. There, on the top of her bureau, was the crude wooden box Mrs. Houghton had left Billy. “Do you recognize this?” Annalisa asked, opening the lid. She took out the jewelry she’d bought from Mrs. Houghton’s estate and, pointing to the hinge at the back, held out the box to Enid. “It has a false bottom,” she said.

“Oh my goodness,” Enid said, taking the box and examining it. “So that’s where she kept it.” She handed the box back to Annalisa. “That would be very Louise. Hiding it in plain sight. How did you get the box, dear?”

“Schiffer gave it to me. After the King David gala. She was moved by what I said about Billy, and she insisted I take it.”

“But how did she get it?”

Annalisa smiled. “You don’t know that, either? She took it from Billy’s apartment on the day she found him.”

“Clever girl,” Enid said. “I’m so happy she and Philip are marrying at last.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Annalisa said. “I want you to see the ballroom.”

“Oh my dear, it’s marvelous,” Enid exclaimed, passing through the large double doors. The floor had been restored to its original black-and-white marble checkerboard, the aquarium was gone, and the marble mantelpiece was newly polished, revealing the intricate carvings telling the story of the goddess Athena. Luckily, Paul had never touched the ceiling, so the painting of sky and cherubs still remained. Scattered around the room were little tables and chairs and vases filled with sprays of white lilies and lilacs. The room smelled heavenly, and strolling to the fireplace, Enid examined the detailed carvings. “Wonderful,” she said, nodding in approval. “You’ve done so much in such a short period of time.”

“I’m very efficient,” Annalisa replied. “And of course, I needed something to keep me busy. After Paul’s accident. It still isn’t appropriate to be seen out in public.”

“Oh no, my dear,” Enid said. “Not for another six months, at least. But a private affair in your own apartment is a different story. And it’s only seventy-five people.”

“I did invite Mindy and James Gooch. And Sam,” Annalisa said. “I’ve decided that Mindy is like one of those old hags in a Grimms’ fairy tale. If you don’t invite her, she wreaks havoc.”

“How true,” Enid said in agreement. “And it’s always wonderful to have children at a wedding.” She looked around the room with pleasure. “Ah, the times we used to have in this ballroom. When Louise was alive and still young. Everyone wanted to be invited to those parties, and everyone came. From Jackie O to Nureyev. Princess Grace when she was still Grace Kelly. Even Queen Elizabeth came once. She had her own security detail. Handsome young men in bespoke suits.”

“But now it turns out that Mrs. Houghton was a thief,” Annalisa said, looking directly at Enid. “Or so it seems.”

Enid stumbled a little, and Annalisa took her arm to steady her. “Are you okay?” she asked, leading Enid to a chair.

Enid patted her heart. “Yes, dear. It’s the heat. Old people don’t do well in the heat. That’s why one is always hearing those terrible stories about old people who die in heat waves. Could I have some water, please?”

“Of course,” Annalisa said. She pressed the button for the intercom. “Gerda? Could you please bring up some ice water for Ms. Merle?”

The water arrived right away, and Enid took a large gulp. “That’s better. Now what were we talking about, dear?”

“The cross. And Mrs. Houghton.”

Enid looked away. “You’re so very much like her, dear. I saw it that night at the gala.”

Annalisa laughed. “Are you saying I’ve got a precious antiquity hidden in the apartment?”

“No, dear,” Enid said. “Mrs. Houghton wasn’t a thief. She was other things, but pilfering antiquities from a museum was not her style.”

Annalisa sat on the small gold ballroom chair next to Enid. “How did she get it, then?”


Tags: Candace Bushnell Fiction